


the old enough hands

by childoffantasy



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M, Hand & Finger Kink, Light Dom/sub, Soft Domme Triss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28806396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childoffantasy/pseuds/childoffantasy
Summary: No rush, they have all the time they need here before the fire.Hand kink got the best of me that's all there is to it.
Relationships: Eskel/Triss Merigold
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	the old enough hands

**Author's Note:**

> I have a vague concept that this should be a part of something bigger but that's not happening any time soon. Probably it fits in more or less with my other Trisskel where she's taking care of him so feel free to lump all this into the same category.
> 
> LJ is entirely responsible for this i wrote it in 25 minutes when I should have been at work. You're a terrible enabler darling <3 Title lifted from Hozier once again
> 
> Per my usual, assume Netflix!Triss.

She sits before him, not like a queen which has never been her style, but powerful nonetheless, eyes warm and inviting and confident that she will have her way. He’s on the floor by her knee, shoulders loose, gazing up at her not in adoration but in safety (and one of these is more important than the other to them). His hands curl softly in his lap, not hiding himself from her view, simply waiting patiently.

A slim arm reaches down as Triss gestures wordlessly for one of Eskel’s hands. He gives them easily, and she gathers his large palms between hers. She looks like her hands should be soft and pampered, to match the aristocratic exterior they gave her, but they are work rough, often-washed and accustomed to the outdoors. The calluses are in different places to his, but she is no stranger to labour.

Triss brings both of Eskel’s hands up to inspect them, one at a time. She presses her mouth across the old scars on his knuckles, stroking the underside of the hand with her fingers to inspect by touch what she can’t see from here. Once both hands have been so bestowed, she flips her hold, and brings his fingertips to her mouth this time. She doesn’t suck coquettishly, doesn’t lick, just touches each digit with her lips, methodical and patient. No rush, they have all the time they need here before the fire.

She meets Eskel’s eyes as she works, gaze level, and it is her evenness that makes him so much more affected by comparison. It sneaks up on him, now that she has moved him from his waiting position, and he finds himself fighting not to squirm when she sits so still. Surely, though, she can see how he would already be flushing if he were a normal man, just by the look on his face, and soon enough his slow pulse will catch up to him. Worn as they are, his hands are sensitive, the roughness of her hands and the warmth of her lips seems to catch on every single nerve ending she passes. He would know that it was her with his eyes closed, the familiarity is that powerful.

Hands attended to, Triss catches Eskel’s eye to be sure he is paying attention before she moves to the next thing on her personal agenda. She lays one of his hands in her lap, and covers the other with her own, and guides it to her breast. Perhaps she would gasp if she weren’t so intent on guiding him how she wants, but her silence means she hears the hitch of his breathing as she slides their entwined hands inside the broad neckline of her gown. His tells are subtle but the more satisfying for it, to persuade such a careful and steady man to react such that she can see it.

She doesn’t guide his touch very long, Eskel is a well experienced lover, but she holds on to him just long enough to remind him whose pace they are moving at tonight. A slow slide of his palm across the width of her breast, bushing the nipple along the way and exciting it to stiffness. Then when he has a handful sliding down to cup the weight of the flesh from beneath. A twitch of her fingers to tell him to hold tighter and a brush of her thumb to show him where she wants to be stroked. Not on the nipple, not yet, down the side first, then around.

The pace set, Triss takes his free hand from where it obediently has stayed in her lap and urges him to take a second handful before she strokes gently down the backs of his hands, now well occupied, and settles comfortably in her chair to let her man be as good to her as he can be.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr at [childoffantasy](https://childoffantasy.tumblr.com)


End file.
